


Buttermilk Biscuits

by atimelyend



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atimelyend/pseuds/atimelyend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Dean and Sam finding out you have a Southern Belle drawl that’s thick as molasses, and then teasing you about it ‘cause they find it adorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her truck was newer than the Impala (if only by 5 years) but Sam and Dean wondered if would fall apart as she bounced it through the pot holes of the dirt road they were following her down. After what seemed like an abnormally long stretch of “driveway” a little bare-wood house came into view. In the cab of the old Ford, she punched the gas and whipped off her seat belt. The rusty thing shuddered in protest as she slammed on the brakes near the house, a brood of chickens flapping wildly to get out of her way. She stumbled out, nearly forgetting to shift into park, and tried to keep herself from sprinting for the door.  
She had been hunting for 5 years now, which didn’t leave her much time to come home. Since she had unofficially teamed up with the Winchesters 2 years ago she had only been home once, and that had been nearly a year and a half ago. But last week her father had called her. “Somethin’s happenin’ on the tracks,” he had told her. “There’s a girl missin’. Her friend’s’ ‘er sayin’ they lost her while they was tryin’ to find the light.”

She hated to be called home under such circumstances but she couldn’t deny it felt good to be home. She hopped up the steps two at a time and jerked the screen door open. She didn’t need to give her eyes time to adjust to the dim living room, she knew exactly where he’d be. She bound over to the recliner and leapt into his lap with a shrill screech of, “DADDY!”

The boys watched from their spot on the porch, where she had let the door slam in their faces. Her entrance seemed to have sent the room into chaos. The newspaper the older man had been reading was crumpled and fluttering to the floor in pieces. Two dogs had come racing through another door they couldn’t see and were continuously barking, deep, howling barks that only hounds were capable of. Sam and Dean watched on as the gray-haired man unfolded out of chair to his full height, which seemed to rival Sam’s, and slung her over his shoulder with ease. He landed a swift pop on her butt and let her down then pulled her into a hug that lifted her feet off the ground again.

Dean cleared his throat behind the screen of the door, snapping them both out of their reunion. They noticed her cheeks flush pink as she ushered them through the door and into the small room. She seemed smaller, maybe even younger, in the presence of her ‘daddy.’ She seemed to bounce around with excitement.

"Well, ya’ll this is my daddy." She turned her attention back to the older man. "Daddy, this is Sam and Dean. Ain’t you excited to finally meet ‘em?" The boys nodded in greeting at the man then exchanged a knowing look, listening to her babble on. "I swear, you look like you’re ‘bout to waste away. When was the last time you had a real supper?" He grunted in response, seeming to know he wasn’t going to get a word in edge wise. "Well, it’s too early to start cooking, but Imma make some biscuits for now. Ya’ll make yourselves comfortable." Before anyone had a chance to respond she was through gone from the room, leaving the door swinging in her wake.

Sam looked over at Dean, who was barely holding in a laugh. Stifling his own laugh he stepped forward, hand out. “It’s nice to meet you Mr….”

He trailed off. She hadn’t told them the man’s name and he was fairly certain “Daddy” wasn’t going to be a cute coming from him.

"No Mr. Just Buck. Good meetin’ ya’ll too. I’ve heard a lot ‘boutcha." Buck grabbed his hand and pumped it roughly once. Meanwhile, Sam was noticing that this man was actually looking down to meet his eyes. That coupled with the man’s gruff demeanor made him take a step back.

"Well, ya’ll grab a seat. I reckon if she’s makin’ biscuits she’ll be expectin’ preserves. I better run over to Mrs. Bev’s…" And, much like his daughter, he was gone before they could respond.

Dean looked around for a seat. “Are there any surfaces not covered in quilts here…?”

Sam elbowed his brother as he brushed past him, silently rejoicing that Buck wasn’t there to hear the comment. He peeked through the door the newly discovered Southern Belle had disappeared through. Sure enough, there she was. Up to her elbows in flour already. With a glance back at Dean, sitting on the floor to avoid the quilts and being slobbered over by dogs, he stepped into the kitchen, smiling. Getting her alone was so hard.

Sam’s eyes glimmered with humor when he asked, “Need any help there, Miss O’Hara?”

She looked up and used the back of her wrist to brush some hair out of face, only succeeding in leaving a streak of powder white flour across her forehead. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Sam.” She cleared her throat when he smirked at her word choice. “Besides,” she took special care to enunciate now, “Scarlett wouldn’t be caught dead cooking for a bunch of dirty men.”

He stood just inside the door of the kitchen, watching her gently pat out the sticky dough she had whipped up in record time.

"Well, if you’re gonna hang out in here, make yourself useful," she teased. He stepped over behind her, where she stood in front of an antique pie safe. "Reach up there an’ grab that tin, please. It’s got the biscuit cu-"

She stopped to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat when he leaned over her to retrieve the box, a large hand on her hip to steady himself. She was no stranger to having his body pressed against hers, but those times had been very different. They had always been drunken, or angry about a hunt gone bad or even stressed from one too many hours of fruitless research. Never clear headed in the middle of the day. And certainly never acknowledged. He spun her around so she was facing him, the rusted box caught between their bodies.

She felt the tips of her ears heat up and she tried the think of a joke to make. Anything to make him move before he realized how he affected her. “Sam-“

Once again, she cut herself off, slapping a hand over her mouth. She wasn’t sure if it was her flustered state or just being down south again but her “Sam” had somehow come out in two syllables. The hand that had been resting on her hip slid up her body, catching her shirt, and came to rest gripping her waist as he threw his head back in a full belly laugh.

She knew that she had to be beet red from head to toe at this point. The corners of her lips pulled down as she tried to look anywhere but the giant in front of her. His proximity was making it difficult. She waited patiently for him to stop making fun of her, taking and looking through the tin while Sam tried to catch his breath. When he was finally down to just wheezes he pulled her closer. Hands resting on the small of her back, his forehead against hers.

"That has got to be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You should start calling me ‘Sayyum’ in bed, too."

She blanched, finally looking up from the old biscuit cutter she had been pretending to study. He nuzzled their noses together and she finally closed her mouth. She actually hadn’t realized it had been hanging open. The color started to return to her face and she looked down. This man had seen her naked on more than one occasion but for some reason this was intimate on a different level.

Bringing a hand underneath her chin, he forced her to look up at him pressing his lips to hers in the same movement. They stood there, chastely kissing for what seemed like ages. Sweet pecks, some longer than others. One, two, three, she lost count. No tongues. Barely parted lips. His hand playing gently with a stray lock of hair, the other still cupping her chin, hers white knuckled around the tin she still clutched.

She finally relaxed and leaned fully into his massive body. Standing more than a foot shorter than him she felt swallowed up and safe all in the same breath. She deepened the kiss and nipped gently at his bottom lip just as the oven sounded that the old thing was finally up to temp. Their eyes shot open in unison. She pulled away bashfully, not even attempting to conceal the stupid grin on her face.

"Alright, darlin’. You ready to learn the right way to cut a biscuit?" He tried not to laugh at what he was learning to be her true accent. Standing behind her at the counter now, watching her cut circles into the dough, he pressed himself against her, hands back at her hips. He leaned down and grazed his lips against her ear.

"Only if you keep talking dirty like that," he murmured.

She cursed as tore one of the dough rounds and found herself ready to leave home already.

She had to get this man back to the bunker. More specifically her room.

This was going to be a long visit.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam cracked an eye before snatching the covers over his head to shield himself from the sunlight pouring through the window. He rolled onto his back, the springs in the old wrought iron bed protesting loudly. He squirmed around in the small bed, trying to find a position that both allowed his enormous limbs to stay on the mattress and kept the sun out of his eyes was proving difficult. It couldn’t have been any later than 7am and they didn’t have plans until the next night, when they would go check out the rail road.

He was just drifting back into sleep when he heard heavy footsteps stomping down the hall. Dean swung the door open with a bang, hand clutching what had to have been his millionth biscuit this week. “C’mon, Sammy! There’re more biscuits! And she said she’s making gravy, too!”

At the mention of more of her cooking, Sam found himself tossing back the covers and following the aroma wafting throughout the house out to the kitchen. Sure enough, she was there, sporting an oversized button down that fell to just above her freckled knees. He squinted thoughtfully, trying to remember if she had borrowed that from him and wondering if she was wearing anything under it.  
She looked up from the pot of gravy she was stirring to find Sam staring at her hard. She had caught him staring more than once this past week and her feelings about that ranged from flattered to unnerved. Suddenly hyper aware that she was wearing his stolen shirt, she tugged nervously at the hem. She tried to distract herself, making the boys and herself each a plate of food. She sat down at the table with them and watched as they dug in. She smiled as she cut into her own food, feeling very content. It had been a good week. She was in her element, here at home. She was hunting and able to take care of her daddy again at the same time. Even the boys seemed so at ease here.

Dean was oddly interested in the farm life and had become fast friends with her father, following him around and trying to help where he could. This had left her and Sam alone quite often, though neither of them seemed to mind. They had spent their days sitting closer than necessary at the kitchen table, ‘accidentally’ brushing against each other and struggling to focus on the research they were supposed to be doing.

She pushed some of the bits of sausage around her plate thinking about holding Sam’s hand under the table yesterday. She knew she was being silly, acting like a love-sick teenager, but she couldn’t help it. She was so absorbed in her daydream that she didn’t notice the brothers wordless exchange, Sam’s head jerking towards the door, Dean’s lewd hand gestures and Sam’s returning kick under the table.

Taking the hint, Dean finished his breakfast first, standing up while downing the last of his iced tea. “Well, I told Buck I’d feed the animals today. I better head out,” he announced proudly. She looked at him oddly but didn’t say anything. Not only was he getting an extremely late start for that, but her father paid Mrs. Bev’s son 10 dollars a week to do it… She shrugged it off and began clearing the table.

Sam put his feet up in Dean’s chair as he left the kitchen. He scratched behind one of the dogs’ ears, either Hank or Waylon, he couldn’t tell them apart. Drawing in a deep breath he looked up at her standing by the sink and started, “So…”

She put the last plate in the drying rack and turned around, drying her hands and asked, “Sooooo?”

He rubbed his clammy palms on his sweatpants while she looked at him expectantly. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, she’d practically been living with him for 2 years now. Having rough and wild sex for nearly half that time. But this was different. You couldn’t really mess up casual sex. Relationships on the other hand…

"I wanna take you on a date tonight," he blurted at her. She looked stunned for a moment before grinning almost bashfully. She walked over to sit on the edge of the chair his feet were in.

"Why, Sam!" He loved the way she said his name lately, somehow making it two syllables with her precious drawl. "You think it’s that easy to win Scarlett over?" She laughed at his blush and continued. "I would love that. But I’m thinkin’ I’ll take you on a date. We are in my hometown after all.”

Sam chuckled at that, relieved that this new turn in their relationship hadn’t made things awkward. But, there was no way she was paying for the first date and voiced his objection.

"Who says we’ll be doing anything that ain’t free?" she winked. And with that, she refused to say any more about her plans.

————————————————————-

Later that afternoon, while Sam and Dean were in town asking the victim’s friends about what they’d seen, she ventured out to the shop. She walked in just as Buck was letting the hood of her truck drop shut.

"Did you detail her?!" She inspected the freshly washed truck, excitedly.

"Yea, you oughta be ashamed. Lettin’ ‘er get like that." Buck tried to sound his usual gruff self but he smiled as he watched his daughter peek through the window of the cab.

She looked back at him and sighed, “Oh, I know, daddy. I just ain’t never got the time. Or the money for that matter…”

He couldn’t argue. He knew what money had been like before his wife had died and he’d given up hunting to raise his daughter. “Well, I went ahead and changed the oil while I was at it. Filthy mind you… New tires, new brake pads. Maybe if you’d come home more of’en, we could keep this old thing in shap- Umph!” She crashed into him, hugging him tightly around the middle.

"Daddy, you are the BEST!" She pressed her face into his chest as he squeezed back, chuckling.

"Well, if that’s what I get for a few tires, Lord help me when you check the seat…" She pulled back with a grin and quickly yanked the door open. As soon as she spotted the pink gift bag in the passenger seat, she had to lean against the door from laughing. The thought of her giant of a dad wandering around her favorite boutique and picking out soaps and lotions was too much.

"How’d you know which ones to get?" She was barely able to get the words out for laughing.

He tugged on his hat and shined a spot on the hood. “I didn’t. I took the old ones from your bathroom and Bev came and helped.”

She didn’t miss the lack of prefix. “Oh, just Bev now, huh?” She had been trying to get her dad to ask their widowed neighbor out for years.

"Don’t even start. ‘Less you wanna talk ‘bout Sam? I reckon, he’s sweet on you." Her cheeks heated at his words. She had never been one to bring boys home so they had successfully avoided this conversation throughout high school.

"Actually, yes. I need your help. You remember when you used to take me camping by the river?"

————————————————————-

That night when Sam came in for dinner at 7pm, sharp, like she’d taught them since they’d been here, both Dean and Buck were missing. They were going to be in so much trouble. Before he could say anything her head popped up from behind the open refrigerator door.

"I sent them to Mrs. Bev’s. They’ll stumble back in a couple hours, full as ticks and pro’ly a little drunk," she smiled.

She bent back to rummage in the shelves some more so Sam took his place at the table. He noted the tablecloth that was now draped over the rustic top, fresh flowers in the center and smiled. This was their date. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but whatever she was cooking smelled amazing. She stood up from the fridge holding the bottle of wine she’d been searching for. When she kicked the door shut, he sucked in a breath at the sight of her.

It wasn’t often he saw her outside of hunting garb but he had never seen her in a dress. She was gorgeous in the white eyelet. He wished white were a more practical color for a hunter, it complemented her skin beautifully. His eyes roamed the dress to where it fell just above the knees and when they kept going he had to laugh. He wasn’t sure what he expected. He had never known her to wear sandals or heels, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting cowgirl boots.

"What?! Don’t make fun’a me! These are my best shoes. They’re my favorite…" She trailed off, admiring the pointed toes. He got up and moved to stand in front of her, letting his hands rest on her hips. He hadn’t felt this brave since he had kissed her in the kitchen.

"I’m not making fun. Honest. I think you look amazing." She smiled that bashful smile up at him and muttered her thanks before slipping from his grip. He leaned against the counter watching her scurry around the kitchen. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No! No, just grab that wine and the glasses an’ sit down," she didn’t turn away from the oven while she ordered him. He did as he was told and she soon followed behind carrying a heavy platter. She set it down between their plates and smiled at his impressed expression.

“I was tired of fried…” She had baked a chicken which sat nestled in a bed of veggies and potatoes. She served up their plates while Sam poured them each a glass of the muscadine wine she’d had him set out.

After dinner, she led him out to her truck. He noticed a tarp covering the bed but said nothing. He settled into the passenger seat clutching another bottle of wine she’d given him and watched as she brought the old Ford to life. She was beautiful in the moonlight. He still hadn’t gotten over how amazing she looked in this dress, the small straps showing of her shoulders and the dusting of freckles across them. She was so happy here at home, her face actually looking her 23 years for once instead of aged by the lifestyle.

“What on God’s green Earth are you starin’ at, Sammy?” Her words shook him out of his trance and he found her smiling over at him before returning her eyes to the dirt road. She bounced the truck along just a little too fast, singing along to the country station on the radio. Feeling confident after catching him staring, she reached for the hand Sam had draped across the back of the seat. Bring it into her lap, she laced her fingers through his. They rode the rest of the way quietly.

It was only a few minutes before she stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere. She threw the truck in park before turning to him, “Stay right here. No peekin’.” At that, she hopped out before grabbing a worn duffel from underneath her seat. She slammed the door shut and made her way to the back of the truck, working by moonlight. With nimble fingers she untied the tarp her father had fastened for her and wadded it up, tossing it to the side. She grabbed the lantern from the bag and switched it on before setting it on the toolbox along with the Tupperware of pound cake and Dixie cups she’d brought. Standing on her tiptoes to lean over the side, she hastily fluffed the pillows and blankets carefully situated in the bed. She was shaking from a mixture of excitement and the chill in the air as she ran around to his side and yanked his door open.

He jumped when she opened the door as if he hadn’t been watching her in the rearview. When he stepped out of the cab, he immediately knew why she had brought him here. They were parked just uphill from a grassy riverbank. The water splashed quietly over the rocks scattered across its shallow bottom. Light from the full moon reflected off the ripples making the night, brightening the area even more. The night had cast a blue tint over everything but he could still tell that they were surrounded by green. A cool spring breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying a sweet floral smell. She tugged gently on his hand and he noticed her shudder with chill.

“C’mon, Sammy…” She was grinning as she led him to the back of the truck. He watched her, amused, as she clamored into the make-shift bed she had created in the truck bed. She kicked off her boots before burrowing into the blankets. “Well, whacha waitin’ for?”

He laughed at her enthusiasm and abandoned his shoes before following after her. Snuggling under the blanket she held up for him, Sam pulled her close. “You win date night.”

She beamed up at him, proud, “Me an’ daddy used to come out here all the time when I was little.”

He nodded thoughtfully in acknowledgment as she continued to talk but all his focus was on her lips. He hadn’t stop thinking about that kiss in the kitchen all week, and now he was dying to do it again. When his thumb brushed lightly across her bottom lip she lost her train of thought, forgetting what she’d been talking about.

She felt the same awkwardness from earlier that week returning. Desperate to ward it off, she leaned up to peck his lips. When she pulled back, she caught him smiling widely before he went in for another. The kiss started off much like the one in the kitchen. Sweet, grade school kisses, that she lost count of but this time there was nothing to interrupt them. They lay on their sides, facing one another, while Sam held her body closely against his. He let his fingers trail softly up and down her arm as he deepened the kiss.

He grazed his teeth gently against her lip and she readily opened to him, letting his tongue explore hers. She trembled with excitement. Somehow, this felt like the first time. In some ways it was. Their usual encounters were always hurried and sloppy and more often than not rough. But, right now, they weren’t two buddies blowing off steam. They were a couple. Sam was tormenting-ly gentle, all but asking permission as he pulled softly on the strap of her dress. She sat up, shimmying out of it before tossing it over the roof of the truck.

As he fumbled with the buttons of his own shirt, he admired her sitting there in her bra and panties. She was stunning in the moonlight, goose bumps prickling at her skin. She swatted as his hands and took over. He had gotten distracted. She made quick work of the plaid shirt and threw it to join her dress before yanking his under shirt off as well. He wiggled out of his jeans and together they crawled back into the warmth of the covers. He leaned over her, peppering kisses over her face, making her giggle.

“I brought cake, ya know…”

He grunted in response, clearly not interested. His large hands roamed her body and she shivered under their heat. They traced up her sides and back down again, resting splayed across her hips. He squeezed them gently earning a small sigh from her. Feeling more sure, he pulled her up to get at the clasp of her bra. He tossed it to the side and admired the handful of freckles dotted across her collarbone and the way her nipples had pebbled in the cool air. Bashful under his gaze, she moved to cover herself with her hands. He smiled and pushed them away, replacing them with his own.

She let out another soft sigh and let her eyes flutter shut as he teased her nipples gently. Her hands were shaking as they ran through his hair, caressing it while he brushed soft kisses over her chest, planting one on every freckle he saw. Sam nuzzled his face between her breasts and inhaled the smell of her, deeply. He smiled to himself in disbelief as he licked up the valley there. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Sure, he’d had sex with her, but he was about to make love to her. Admittedly, he’d had never pictured this in the back of a truck, but he wasn’t picky.

For once, they took their time. He reveled in the new sounds he was pulling from her. A breathy sigh as he flicked his tongue over her nipples, soft whimpers as he caressed her skin so softly it almost tickled, a hitch in her breath as his rough stubble grazed her inner thigh, a sharp gasp as he teased her already soaking entrance with his fingers. When he finally eased two fingers into her and began to pump them wetly, he started to earn more familiar sounds. She moaned lowly at the feel of him, aching for more, growing tired of his teasing.

“Sam,” seriously, the way she says that is never going to get old, “please…”

“’Please’ what, sweetheart?”

“Please, I need…” She trailed off, writhing as he began a come-hither motion with his fingers.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” He was enjoying doing this to her. She was all but begging, barely able to form a sentence, and it was because of him. He moved between her legs as he waited for her response. He pulled his fingers out, using her juices to lubricate himself. She let out a high whine as she watched him stroking his hardened length between her legs.

“Sam, please! I need your dick!”

He chuckled at that, loving the way the crude words sounded, coming from her sweet mouth. Ready to give her what she needed, he leaned forward over her, supporting his weight on one lean muscular arm, the other rubbing his throbbing member against her folds. She arched up towards him dramatically.

When he finally slid into her wet heat, they both groaned in relief. He basked in the feel of her for a moment before she rolled her hips impatiently against him and he started up a leisurely rhythm. His hips rolled against hers in the most amazing new way. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling the blankets up over them to protect them from the chilly night. She pulled him down so his body was flush against hers, the new angle causing delicious friction against her clit. She mewled at the sensation and pressed her mouth to his, tasting him greedily.

It wasn’t long before her hands were fisted tightly in his hair. Sam knew what that meant… Just as he suspected, a second later her walls were beginning to flutter around his cock. He looked down at her to find her returning his gaze, a pleading look in her eyes. He picked up speed, watching as her mouth fell open in a silent scream. It only took a few rough pumps before she was gushing around him, clenching him tightly enough to send him over the edge after her, groaning deeply with his release.

He collapsed over her, catching himself on his elbows and peppered kisses over face. After a moment he rolled away and onto his back, tucking an arm behind his head to look up at the stars while his breathing evened out. She curled into him, shivering from the sheen of sweat covering her. He wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close and she laid against his chest, his body heat warming her up from the chill in the air. They laid in comfortable silence so long they lost track of the time. It was over an hour before either of them spoke. By the time they moved, Buck and Dean had long since, stumbled back home. Drunk and well fed as she predicted, arguing amicably over Ford versus Chevy.

Eventually, she knew it was time for them to get back and she broke the peaceful silence. “My daddy reckons you’re sweet on me…”

He laughed under his breath. He looked down at her, the hair she had clearly spent so much extra time on today now a mess, and smiled, “I reckon he’s right.”


End file.
